I STILL DREAM OF ORGONON

Lopsided Cat Laughs at My Concern

Me, letting Lopsided Cat through the door:There you are. Dude, I was worried about you last night. It got down to single digits and the wind tore shingles off the roof. I thought you might become a catsicle.

Lopsided Cat: Yes, well. I know you might not have gotten the memo, but rumor is that I have a really thick fur coat. And if it gets too cold I just disembowel a raccoon, snuggle into the carcass for warmth and then eat my way out of its body in the morning.

Me: I see. So, want some cat food?

Lopsided Cat: No thanks. It was pretty frosty last night. I’m kinda full.

Me: Ew.

Lopsided Cat: I saved you some. It’s by the garage steps.

Me: You shouldn’t have.

Lopsided Cat: I’m just giving that way. Anyway, not that this isn’t fun, but you’re blocking me from my nap.

I’m glad George Foreman is not an outdoor cat these days. It’s stressful for me because I know he could get hurt or worse, but also he’s not the best hunter and when he comes in with something it’s usually still alive enough to run out of his jaws and the first relaxation of muscles and go hide somewhere to die.

When your cat brings you a live duck, then you’ve known true cat love… and the drawbacks of cat doors. He’s still a kitten, so I’m kind of hoping that by the time he’s 2, he’ll have learned to kill the presents before bringing them home.

If the Executive Committee of The Official Ghlaghghee Fan Club didn’t have its hands full worshipping Magnificent She and playing excessive amounts of COD4, it would start the affiliated The Official Lopsided Cat Fan Club.

I love Lopsided Cat. And I see no tilt either. I think your eyeballs are crooked Mr. Scalzi. He is perfect.

I once had a cat–Sheba–who brought me “fish and plankton and sea greens and protein from the sea”–okay, that’s not true. But she did bring me gophers all time. And their intestines were always stretched all over the front steps. Christ. It was bad.

I’m not aware of him actually killing any. I don’t doubt he could if he wanted to make the effort.

Doubt it. Our 55 lb pit bull once took on a raccoon that had entered her dog pen. She appeared to be winning, but it managed to get away after doing some damage to her face. I later found the great feline hunter, slayer of rats and baby grackles, cowering behind the dog’s house, and I suspect that the raccoon was hunting the cat.